


Another reason to hate improvisation

by panamdea



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole, Star Wars Legends: X-wing Series - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4084216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panamdea/pseuds/panamdea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Wraith's successful mission at Viamarr 4, Face still has to deal with an important unresolved issue. A 'missing moment' from the end of chapter 13 of Wraith Squadron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another reason to hate improvisation

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at wraithsquadron.livejournal.com many moons ago. Clearly these characters come from someone else's universe.

“This is all your fault.” Face said bitterly, and released as he said it that this was exactly the sort of comment he really should stop making to senior officers.

Fortunately for him the senior officer he’d addressed himself to this time was far too entertained by Face’s predicament to care much. Besides which, Face had discovered early on in his tenure with the Wraiths that when it came to respecting rank, his squadron’s XO was one of the most laid back men in the galaxy. At least up to a point. Face had seen Janson summarily dealing with enough candidates for the squadron who pushed their luck too far during training to be in no doubt whatsoever that under that façade of cheerful laziness there was an uncompromising hardness. This probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise in an executive officer picked by Wedge Antilles, but it certainly had been to several of the candidates Janson had washed out.

But for those who had made it through the selection process into the new unit familiarity had rapidly become a habit. Or at least, it was with most of the squadron. It was hard to be familiar with Donos who just didn’t talk and was weirdly aloof even after all these weeks of living in each other’s pockets. And of course the Commander maintained a certain distance appropriate to command, though Face had absolutely no doubt that actual insubordination would be dealt with rapidly and effectively. Even so, some degree of back talking was practically encouraged. In fact, Face reflected, Wraith Squadron was pretty much the only unit in the New Republic Armed Forces that he wouldn’t vape his career again within months by coming out with some remark someone in his direct command chain would find offensive.

Happily for him though, this was Wraith Squadron and it was pretty hard to offend an amused Wes Janson - and Janson was most definitely amused by the very circumstance that had triggered Face’s outburst. It would certainly take more than ‘this is all your fault’, even if it was an undeserved accusation. Not that Face was willing to admit it was undeserved at this point. Some part of this _had_ to be Janson’s fault. Face wasn’t entirely sure how, but he was convinced of it. He wondered with a brief flash of sympathy, if he might be gaining an insight into Commander Antilles’ life.

“My fault?” The look of truly bewildered innocence Janson gave him earned Face’s grudging respect. “All I said was ‘do something’. You were the one who painted yourself orange.”

“I did not paint myself orange.” Face objected between clenched teeth.

Janson raised his eyebrows, a smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “You really are a good actor.” he said. “You had me completely fooled.” As he spoke, he eyed the offending paint streaked across Face’s skin.

And offending was the word. The paint was a vivid and eye hurting orange that just _would not come off_. Or at least, wouldn’t come off without a solvent their chief mechanic claimed to be completely out of.

Face frowned and elaborated. “The orange paint I currently happen to be covered by was a side effect of an otherwise brilliant improvisational performance. Which, by the way, completely exceeded mission parameters, gaining us valuable intelligence and….” His, rebuttal, which had started off so well, ran out of steam. “And, well, was pretty impressive, actually.” He finished, a little lamely.

“And here was me thinking the orange of your flight suit just wasn’t satisfying you any more. I’ve seen it happen before.”

“And how often were you involved in supplying the paint?” Face retorted before he could stop himself.

“I’m hurt that you would think such a thing.” This time Janson oozed wounded dignity. Despite his irritation, Face made a mental note. Familiarity with his squadmates’ skills would be essential in mission planning, and for infiltration missions Janson’s acting ability would be useful. Right now, though, it was just infuriating. Infuriating to the point that Face sincerely hoped it _would_ be useful later because only that could justify his current suffering.

Face tucked the thought away for later and raised his own eyebrows to shoot a skeptical look of his own at the other man.

Janson grinned suddenly. “Not as often as you might think, anyway.” He admitted. “But regardless, I’m not the one who used all the solvent. _That_ can’t possibly be my fault.”

Face was pretty sure that could be Janson’s fault too, but had to admit it probably wasn’t. Cubber’s somewhat malicious enjoyment of his predicament had been the genuine and obvious glee of a mechanic able, for once, to safely thwart one of his pilots’ demands.

Janson must have seen the look of frustration on Face’s paint smeared features because at that point he gave in. His grin broadening, he said. “Oh, take yourself off to engineering. There’s bound to be a supply of solvent somewhere down there.”

Thinking that that was the first really constructive thing Janson had said all day, Face decided to overlook his obvious culpability, and gratefully retired from the bridge.


End file.
